


we make a good team

by ithyca



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, I have no excuse for this, M/M, Morning Sex, Shameless Smut, Top Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 20:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10498800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithyca/pseuds/ithyca
Summary: HEADLINE: sleepy husbands have great sex!





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone over the course of like ... 2 months whenever I'd get bored and have nothing better to do
> 
> Unbeta'd 
> 
> Have fun kids!!!!

Yuuri hates mornings. The stale routine, the waking up early for the sake of drills, of practice, no matter how much he knows he needs it; nothing will ever soften the ejection from sleep. Of sweet, blissful, serendipitous sleep. He stretches, yawns, turns his face toward where he expects the sun to be, in search of some variation of warmth beyond the fleece blanket tossed over his torso. He doesn't find sunlight, at least not in the sense he expects. It's something warmer, like summer in its entirety. He smiles. He knows precisely what it is.

The soft, subtle curve of Viktor's cheek, highlighted by what little light does filter through the drapery, is something of a masterpiece, a Bernini sculpture or a Michelangelo painting. The tinge of pink dusting his cheekbones and nose is perfect, an image from a dream, his silver eyelashes, long and curled just slightly at their ends, brushing against the warm hue. How did he get this lucky? He often forgets how easy it is to lose himself in Viktor, how much he reminds him of an angel, or something like it. Ethereal, untouchable, untainted by time. His eyes travel to his lips, without really meaning to.

Viktor's eyes slowly flutter open, brilliant blue, yet dulled by the insistence of fatigue just behind them. He smiles, a gentle tug of the gloss of his lips upward, and he guides a hand down Yuuri's jaw, seemingly distracted.

"Hey." Quiet. Almost inaudible. Perfect.

"Morning," Yuuri whispers back, mirroring his grin.

His lips are soft when Yuuri kisses them, a gesture of affirmation that this isn't, in fact, part of a dream, that he really is awake, that they are laying together in bed, not a care in the world. He inches closer to him, curls into his embrace and tangles his fingers into the shorter hairs at his nape, urges his lips into the crook of his neck and places a tender kiss to the pale flesh. Viktor rolls over, forearms resting on either side of his head, and he settles on top of Yuuri, stomachs pressed together. He's still smiling, and Yuuri thinks this is all the daylight he'll ever need. They kiss, and again and again and again, slow and steady but with all the passion they both handle in their hearts. Neither of them dares to mention they have a press conference in a few hours, neither worried about their negligence like Yakov or Celestino might have been. They are tangled in each other, and it's all that matters, exchanging breath and holding each other close.

Viktor can't stop smiling, and like some sort of contagious disease, Yuuri has been infected. They laugh, soft echoes in the otherwise empty silence of the morning. He feels so warm. He adjusts, just slightly, fearing the sharp jabs in his thighs that warn him of the oncoming numbness, but the telltale heat coiling up in his gut suggests other motives. Viktor doesn't seem to notice. Regardless, he feels divine, and Yuuri can't help but permit his eyes to close. He can't see well, anyway, without any glasses or contact lenses to speak of. Still, they kiss, lips connected, pieces of a puzzle that fit snug against each other. They could stay like this forever, he thinks, numbness or not, warm and fuzzy and like couples in their cupcake phases all over again. He tastes sweet, like coconuts and fresh oranges, and as their movements become synced but considerably lazier, he allows himself to be swallowed in that taste.

"Mm... Viktor," he breathes, chest heaving against his, palms cupping his cheeks with pure endearment, eyes open once more. The pads of his thumbs brush over them, flushed from the brief struggle for air, and they smile together again, melting into one another like chocolate. Viktor rolls his hips down against him, and Yuuri fails to muffle his moan within the safety of his husband's mouth. Oh.

His face feels aflame almost instantly, fingers gliding carefully over the skin barely exposed from beneath Viktor's t-shirt. He smiles even brighter yet, bringing Yuuri closer, closer, closer, until their bodies are completely connected, pressed against each other as their lips slot back together. Their legs intertwine easily, unfettered by the undulations of their hips, the heat blazing in their cheeks and stomachs and mouths and minds. Yuuri's moaning again, without thinking, and Viktor can't help but answer the sound with a soft one of his own. Hands, eager and fast, slip Yuuri's cotton Christmas pajama pants down his legs without much of a fuss, quick work made of his own pair of spandex shorts (ones that Viktor made sure to bend over in frequently, at Yuuri's expense). Naked and insatiable, they share messy kisses and breathe in each other's whines and whimpers. Viktor runs his hand down Yuuri's thigh, and his breath hitches. He stops. His lips meet the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, peppering it in affection, tongue seeking solace in the heat of his skin, and Yuuri is instantly swimming in a vibrant pool of pure ecstasy.

From time to time, Yuuri must remind himself he's not just dreaming, that this is real and Viktor is really by his side. For all of his flaws and equal weakness, he couldn't think of someone he'd rather be with than Viktor. Even as he maneuvers down the length of his body, decorating his skin in kisses as he pushes his shirt up, he can find something pure and unconditional in his intent.

It's when Viktor takes his half-hard cock into his mouth that Yuuri can't contain himself, when he squirms beneath him and lets out a low whine that he quickly moves to cover, hand slapping over his mouth as his hips arch upward onto Viktor's waiting tongue. When Yuuri looks down, he sees him, looking smug as ever as he gently tends to the pink head, licking away little dribbles of pre-cum and smiling as he peers back. His lips, kiss bitten and red, look perfect as they wrap around his dick, suckling carefully as he pulls Yuuri further toward the edge. It's maddening. His fingers curl into his silver hair, urging him deeper, begging for more friction, for more of the wet heat, the all encompassing sensation of his mouth. Viktor complies easily. Happily, even. It's barely 6 am and he's already receiving probably the best head he's ever had—and that's saying a lot, considering how long he and Viktor have been together. He lets out a low, warning moan, attempting to tug Viktor from his task, but he's not budging, rather adamant in finishing him off. He gives one last suck as he pulls away and Yuuri comes, dribbles of white rolling down his husband's lips and chin. As Viktor licks it away, looking incredibly self-satisfied, Yuuri huffs, cheeks tinged red as he sits up to tug Viktor closer.

"You're a mess now," he scolds softly, not an ounce of backing to the statement, "And I haven't even had my fill of you yet." He smiles, but finds he's embarrassed by himself, running the pad of his thumb along Viktor's cum-stained bottom lip.

"It's too early to worry about protection," Viktor hums suddenly, procuring a small bottle of lube from beneath the coverlet, "In other words, I was too lazy to buy condoms yesterday when I was at the store, so you're going in bare this morning." He giggles, and Yuuri should scold him again (laziness doesn't make an effective excuse), but he finds it hard to do so when Viktor's hand is thoroughly working his cock back to hardness again. He whimpers, still slightly over sensitive, and leans in to claim his husband's smart-ass mouth in a sloppy kiss instead. It has its intended effect. Viktor is silent aside from the whine he sends down Yuuri's throat when he reaches a hand around to prod a none-too-gentle finger at his hole. He pours a generous amount of lube onto two fingers and turns, breaking their kiss, and works himself open, breathless whimpers leaving his slightly parted lips. Yuuri looks on in awe, reaching towards his ass, but Viktor is quick to swat his hand away. "No touching," he purrs slickly, skillfully scissoring his fingers, "You'll get your turn soon enough. I'm almost ready."

Despite the air of command he presents, he's panting, riding his own fingers as he preps himself for Yuuri, relishing the hungry look he's coaxed from him. He kicks the bottle of lube back toward Yuuri, eyeing him and then it, quickening his pace with his hand. "C'mon," he hisses impatiently, voice cracking with pleasure, "I need you now." Yuuri fumbles to grab the lube and slick himself up, pulling Viktor's hand away by his wrist and positioning himself awkwardly. Despite years of practice in similar situations with him, he's still like a fawn on new legs at times, tripping over himself in an attempt to satisfy his lover to the best of his ability. "I'm gonna push in now, Vitya," Yuuri groans softly, pressing the tip of his cock against his tight entrance. Viktor only keens loudly in approval, encouraging his husband, arching his back, hips wiggling impatiently. "Yes," he gasps, just as Yuuri pushes in further, soon to bottom out (which quickly tugs another airy moan from Viktor's throat). He settles in, pressing his chest to his husband's back and scattering a litany of kisses over his pale flesh. He loves him so much, loves watching him, loves the way his muscles tense beneath him (he makes him feel so good, God, so wanted, so powerful). He chews restlessly on his bottom lip, pulling back and snapping his hips forward, earning a choked cry that sends shivers of delight up Yuuri's spine.

"So good, Yuura, so good—" He's a downright mess, blubbering into the pillow he's taken into his custody, the curve of his back stiff as he ruts his ass back against his husband's beautiful dick. Garbled Russian is the best way he can express himself, he's decided, voice broken and cracking consistently as Yuuri fucks him into the mattress, so tender and kind in his ministrations. Viktor almost wishes he'd go harder, demolish him and leave him a sloppy, spent mess. But he can't ask him for that, not yet, not when it's this early and he's still slow with drowsiness. Only Viktor could wake up this early ready and rearing to go so vigorously, so earnest. Yuuri's name and variations of it leave his mouth in a whiny, chanted mantra, fingers curling into the sheets and twisting, desperate for some sort of leverage. He turns to look at him, watch him so focused as he thrusts in and out, in and out, in and out. It's endearing, the way his lips purse and his brows knit together.

"Wait."

And suddenly, Viktor is pulling away, exhaling sharply at the onset feeling of emptiness, and turns to push Yuuri to his knees. "Look at me," he purrs, all smiles as he cups his cheeks in his palms, flushed and warm from sex, "I love you, so much." Chaste kisses fluttering over Yuuri's skin, Viktor is back to it almost immediately, sinking onto his length, shocking him out of his lovestruck haze. "I love you too," he's babbling suddenly, so overtaken by sensation, "God, Vitya, so good. I'm so close."

Viktor whines and rolls his hips easily, arms slung over his shoulders and winding tightly together at the nape of his neck, "Me too." His chest heaves with the effort it takes, leaves both of them boneless and mindless as they fill the room with sounds of skin slapping and raspy moans. Viktor presses his nose into the crook of Yuuri's neck, teething the sensitive skin, leaving tiny red marks and groaning as he feels the white-hot release fill him up. He's quick to follow, with a few short pumps from his husband's fist, ropes of cum decorating their chests and stomachs. He whimpers, riding out their orgasms for both of them, and falls backwards onto the mattress with little resistance. Yuuri topples onto him, cheek resting against his collarbone. "That was amazing," he breathes, eyes closing sleepily, "You were amazing."

Viktor laughs quietly, a melodic sound, and cards his fingers through Yuuri's soft black hair, reveling in the vague burning soreness deep in his muscles. "Don't discredit yourself," he replies, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, "The first time I saw you, back at that first banquet, I never would have guessed you to be so... talented." He giggles again, and Yuuri is grateful he can't see the flush on his cheeks.

"You're embarrassing."

"You love me." 


End file.
